Not for the Faint of Heart: Shaman Boot Camp continued
Over a breakfast of sliced papaya and a health conscious Egg McMuffin wannabe, Doris told us about the time Lonely Planet asked her to explain Washuma ceremonies to their readers. She was the expert and they wanted to know what the most important part was. “Vomiting,” she replied. And like the people before me, I looked at her in horror and exclaimed, “What are you talking about? That can’t be part of the ceremony!”
Oh, but it is…if you’re lucky.
Traditional Peruvian costume
Washuma is a magical plant–one of the oldest in South America. It’s a cactus that grows in the Andes and is also known as San Pedro. It opens up your subconscious and is considered to be a great healer. It shows Shaman where your pain is, so they can help coax it out with their pointy fingers and prayers to the gods. And then, if everything is on your side, you’ll release the trapped energy and pain…by vomiting it back into the earth.
Village Women
The day before, Francoise and I were each given a 2-foot long piece of Washuma and told to clean it by removing the spines and thin skin while keeping the flesh intact. As a chef, I thought it would be an easy task, but it proved to be challenging. It took hours. The slow monotonous process, coupled with stabbing shoulder pain–an old injury which flared up when I got to Peru, made me grumpy and even consider packing my bags and returning to civilization. I was tired, sick, cold and had no desire to part-take in any ceremony that would make me vomit…and I wanted a hot shower…and a cup of coffee, a cappuccino to be exact, with a red wine chaser…and steak, a big chunk of blood red ribeye that I would eat with my hands. I walked away from my task a few times, going as far as planning my escape to Cusco, but I always returned to that stupid cactus, reminding myself that I wasn’t a quitter. I also wanted to know how the story would end.
Eventually the cactus was cleaned, the dark green outer layer sliced off, chopped and put into a large pot to boil…for hours until it was a solid goop of slime with a little foam on top–need I say more.
San Pedro or Washuma
That night Doris read our coca leaves to see the amount of Washuma we would drink for the ceremony. I played along, not letting on that under no circumstances would I drink a blob of solid slime. A Peruvian woman would join us the following day and her leaves said she only needed a small amount. My leaves told a different story. They said I could drink all I wanted, that Washuma was my healer—not exactly what I wanted to hear.
The following morning we sat in a field on a wool blanket and the ceremony cup was passed from person to person. The others had done it–no gagging, no coughing, not even a funny face. I was told to drink a larger amount than the others, if I wanted, but said I had no desire. I held the cup to my lips, tilted my head back and opened my throat as instructed, letting the slime slip down in one solid piece…one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever done. Doris said that San Pedro would now live inside me forever. I cringed at the thought.
Shaman asking spirits to go
We went to the Peruvian woman’s house about 20 minutes away by car. Her house was new. Her garden, butting up to a solid mountain wall, was landscaped with tropical flowers and roses. It the center of the property was a glass enclosed gazebo. There were no neighbors. No one lived in the area, at the base of this particular mountain, because it was a former burial ground used before the Incas. Earlier in the week, we had attended a ceremony there with another shaman who came from Cusco to ask the prying, somewhat pushy spirits to leave.
While the others walked up into the mountain to visit a waterfall, I laid down in the gazebo unable to move with severe nausea. Doris sat beside me looking for the trapped energy. She found it under my right armpit. Every time she touched it I felt like throwing up…I was starting to understand. She told me to go outside and find a quiet corner, even hug a tree if I wanted, until I could deliver the newly released energy back to nature. I rolled my eyes and gave her the “you have to be kidding me” look before following her instructions.
Site of ancient burial ground
Within minutes energy shot through my body and released itself back to the earth. The pain in that area went away and I felt great, but only for about 20 minutes and then I went back for more…stomach pain and the tree…lower abdomen and the tree. But the last time was different. The energy was much more intense and I swear I saw and felt the entire area ripple with waves. The energy shot out of my mouth as if I were a fire-breathing dragon. Now, I sometimes wonder if I imagined it.
Afterwards I felt good and couldn’t wait to tell Doris. She gave me a gold star and said she was surprised, thought I was too resistant to her ideas and the candidate most likely to walk away.
House in countryside
Our ride back to the house never showed up, so we traipsed through cornfields and humble backyards strewn with hanging laundry until we reached the road and flagged down the mini bus heading to town. We climbed inside the crowded vehicle, sitting between natives in traditional costumes, pointed red woven hats and elaborate ponchos. When a woman with two small children called for her stop, but couldn’t find her change to pay the fare, the driver continued on. It took me awhile to figure out their policy of holding people hostage. When she found her coins, the distraught woman was released onto the side of the road with various bundles and a long walk ahead of her.
Water boiling for after ceremony bath.
We got off at the next stop and walked toward Doris’s house. The sun was starting to set, the temperature dropping fast. A ray of light hit the peak of the mountain in front of us, illuminating the entire valley. It sparkled. Doris said it was the sign of gold–that gold must still be inside, passed over centuries ago when the conquistadores tried to strip the land of its precious metals and indigenous ways. But I now know, without a doubt, that much of it still survives.
Tags: cactus as healer, delicious expeditions, healers, kris rudolph, Peru, San Pedro, San Pedro ceremony, washuma, washuma ceremony
